Love is not all
by DharmaGirl07
Summary: After Ben wakes up in the make-shift infirmary after "Whatever Happened, Happened", he begins to think about some of his favorite memories. Two Ben/Annie oneshots, and a Ben/Alex oneshot. Feedback is always appreciated.


Slowly, painfully, Ben's vision began to come back as his eyes cracked open. For a moment, he stared at the rusty, swinging lamp overhead with dim, disinterested confusion. He couldn't seem to remember where he was or how he got there. Shifting his head, he winced. There was a large bump on the back of his skull. That seemed to jog his memory a little, and he thought back, trying to put the pieces together. He was on an airplane, reading _Ulysses_, then there was that light, and they crashed. What happened then? Oh yes, he saw Sun walking off into the jungle and had followed her. After that, things got really hazy, and the exertion of remembering became too much for him. Relaxing his neck muscles, he let his head slump back on the pillow. Glancing about him, he decided they had made a make-shift sort of infirmary. It didn't look like he was the only one there, either. At least he wasn't hurt badly. Sighing, he curled up and tried to fall asleep again.

The next time he awoke, John Locke was sitting right next to him. Ben started.

"Welcome to the land of the living."

Locke and Ben sat staring at each other. Both had done a lot of explaining, and now they simply sat, worn out by the conversation. Ben contemplated his next move while John eyed him.

"You know Ben," he began, causing his companion's eyes to snap up. "When I was in the real world and I was trying to convince everyone to come back, Kate said something pretty interesting to me. She said that I didn't want to leave the Island because I'd never loved anyone. And I told her, no, that wasn't true, I had loved someone once. But I've been sitting here, watching you sleep, thinking. You didn't want to leave the Island either, Ben. You never loved anyone, did you?"

Ben looked at John with a deadened expression.

"No, John," he replied, shaking his head slightly. "I loved a few people, but they all lived and died on this Island. I have no reason to leave. All the memories are wrapped up in this place, John. Why would I ever want to leave?"

Locke gazed at him, the way he always did when Ben said something he didn't fully understand, and pursed his lips.

"Is that why you're back here, then, Ben? Because all your memories are tied up here?" he asked.

"No, John, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to be judged." Disdain echoed in Ben's voice.

John edged away from him, looking slightly wounded. Ben's eyes hardened. He could care less if he had offended John or not. It seemed so meaningless now, in light of his current mission.

"I think I'll go see what Cesar is up to," Locke murmured, tactfully releasing himself from Ben's cold stare.

Ben, unconcerned, lay back down on the bed, tired to his core. He willed sleep to come, but instead, his mind couldn't seem to help but focus on what Locke had said. _You never loved anyone, did you?_ How wrong that statement was. He had loved two of the most beautiful creatures ever. But now they were gone, and he had to focus on the task at hand. Ben couldn't seem to manage it, though, and found himself thinking about happier, simpler times, the way one does when in situations of debilitating stress and hopelessness.

----------

"Oh Ben, it's a beautiful spot! You can see the whole valley from here," the honey-haired woman exclaimed.

"Do you really like it?" Ben asked, blushing at her words of praise.

"It's absolutely exquisite!"

He smiled, suddenly shy, and pulled out the red-and-white gingham picnic blanket.

"Just for you, I brought all your favorites. Tuna salad sandwiches, which I made myself, strawberries, and mangoes, and for dessert," he theatrically whipped a napkin off a plate piled with bulky shapes, "chocolate éclairs and freshly-ground and brewed coffee."

Her eyes gleamed.

"Ben," she began, giving him a beaming smile. "You're so good to me."

"Anything for you, Annie."

They ate slowly, making conversation, talking about books and looking at the green landscape below them. All too soon, it seemed like it was time for dessert. Ben reached over for the thermos.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Yes, please." Annie looked off into the distance, peering out at the mountains like she could see the ocean beyond them. "You know, this puts me in mind of a poem."

One of Ben's eyebrows arched. Usually, he had no time for poetry, but with Annie, it was always different. Things that sounded stilted and contrived seemed more natural coming out of her mouth. He continued pouring the coffee, knowing that whether he wanted her to or not, she was about to share it with him. He never minded.

"Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink, nor slumber nor a roof against the rain, nor yet a floating spar to men that sink and rise and sink and rise and sink again."

"That might be a problem on this Island," Ben interjected comically. She giggled and shushed him.

"You're interrupting my art." Giving him a pretend look of reprove, she continued. "Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath nor clean the blood, not set the fractured bone."

"Isn't that rather gruesome?"

"If you interrupt again, I will be forced to cut off your tongue."

Ben laughed.

"Alright, alright, I promise I'll behave."

"See that you do," she reprimanded, putting on her best stern look. He just kept laughing. "Yet many a man is making friends with death even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It well may be that in a difficult hour, pinned down by need and moaning for release or nagged by want past resolution's power, I might be driven to sell your love for peace, or trade the memory of this night for food."

Annie looked at Ben, putting her hand in his.

"It may well be. I do not think I would."

----------

Ben sighed. That day seemed so long ago; it barely seemed real anymore. He knew it was; that was why he kept clinging to it through all these chaotic years. His mind jumped, and he remembered her again.

----------

"Why don't you read a real book?" Ben asked.

"_One Hundred Years of Solitude_ is a real book," Annie replied in a steady voice which indicated she was used to these kinds of comments from him. She kept right on reading.

"Why don't you try Camus?"

"I don't like Camus; he depresses me."

"How would you know? All you read was _The Stranger_."

"And you're point is?"

Ben laughed. She could be so stubborn. He settled deeper into the couch, and she settled deeper into him. "Che Gelida Manina" played softly in the background. It was Annie's favorite. He knew she wasn't mad at him because she paused from her book, craning her neck to look up at him for a moment with a frown, and then stretched out to kiss him.

"What was that for?" He smiled.

"Because I love you, that's why." She smiled in return. "Even if you do make fun of my books."

"Why do you love that one so much? That has to be the third time you've read it since we've been married."

"I just love the magic realism, and the way time is different there. The whole feel of the community is different, too. Everyone plays such a specific role, influencing everyone else's lives, even if they don't know it. And there are some very sweet love stories intertwined with all the drama, too." She grinned up at him, then turned back to her book.

Right at that moment, the doorbell rang. Annie grumbled, clearly displeased that something else was interrupting her.

"Want me to get that?" Ben asked.

"Do you mind? They're about to deliver the baby with the pig's tail."

Ben rolled his eyes and kissed her on the top of the head.

"No problem." Extricating himself, he headed toward the door. Opening it, he found Horace standing outside, his hands shoved deep in his Dharma Initiative jumpsuit pockets.

"Horace, what a surprise," Ben said, gesturing for him to come in.

"Hello Horace," Annie called from the living room.

"Hello Annie," Horace called in return.

Ben made an apologetic face.

"Please excuse her rudeness, she's finishing a book."

Horace waved his hand.

"It's no problem. I actually wanted to speak to you alone, Ben. Would you care to step outside with me?"

"Of course," Ben replied, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. "I'll be right back, sweet pea," he called to Annie.

The two men stepped out into the fresh night air. The stars always shone so bright on the Island, and the dew on the grass glittered in the starlight. They walked a few paces onto the lawn, when Horace stopped and turned to speak.

"Horace, what's this all about?"

The leader of the Dharma Initiative hesitated.

"Ben, Annie's pregnant."

----------

She had died a few months later. Ben wanted to go back, to shout at his past self, to shake him by the shoulders and tell him he needed to do a better job of protecting Annie, but he knew it would never work. He understood time too well. She was gone; she existed only his memory, now. No one else alive now probably even remembered the sunny, sweet honey-haired woman he had loved ceaselessly since he first met her. But there had been someone else in between her and now, too.

----------

Ben awoke with a start. He heard a far-off noise, and tried to make sense of it. He strained for a moment, then it came to him: someone was crying. As if on cue, the call came.

"Daddy!"

Ben sprang up and started down the hall.

"I'm coming, Alex," he called back reassuringly. Coming to the door, he stepped into his daughter's room. The nightlight glowed, casting a soft light on his little girl, who looked back at him with big, scared brown eyes.

"Did you have a nightmare, baby?" he asked with concern, sitting down on her bed and stroking her sweat-streaked hair. She crawled up into his lap, and, putting her arms around his neck, buried her face in him.

"Oh Daddy, I was out in the jungle, and it was dark and cold and lonely," she sobbed.

"Shhh, shhh," he cooed, rocking her gently. "I'm here now; you're Daddy's here now. I won't let anything happen to you."

She wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"Hey, how about we go to the kitchen, and I make you some hot chocolate?"

Alex pulled herself away from her father, and nodded her head. Ben smiled, and wiped the tears off her round toddler face with his thumb.

"That's my girl." With that, he picked her up and, holding the hot little body close, walked down to the kitchen, singing "Catch a Falling Star" quietly.

"I love you, Daddy," Alex whispered.

"I love you, too, my little sweet pea."

----------

No matter how much time would pass, Ben would never get over the pain of losing Annie and Alex. They were both taken from him, and they were the two people he had cared the most about in his whole life: the happy, loving woman, and his little girl. He still planned to revenge Alex for the way she had been senselessly murdered, a pawn in a larger game, but those would have to wait for now. Right now, he needed to be judged. Groaning, he turned over and tried to find a few more forgetful hours of sleep until his trial.


End file.
